


Life Imitates Art

by GypseyDanger



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Ant-Man (2015), Black Panther - All Media Types, Daredevil (TV), Jessica Jones (TV), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Civil War (Marvel), Crossover, F/F, F/M, Mild Injuries, Mild Language, Multi, Past Relationship(s), Pre-Civil War (Marvel), Pregnancy, Somewhat OOC Characters, Unrequited Love, established relationship(s) - Freeform, mild violence, somewhat canon divergence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 02:08:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4203915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GypseyDanger/pseuds/GypseyDanger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Older men declare war. But it is youth that must fight and die.”<br/>― Herbert Hoover</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. No Escape From Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Things change. And friends leave. Life doesn't stop for anybody.”  
> ― Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

They're twins and the superstition that twins can sense each other became a proven fact after their transitions. One knew when the other was in the same room, when they needed them for comfort or if they were in trouble and needed help. They're bond as siblings was strengthened after the experiment as well. They had always been close due to the fact that they only had each other and that only became stronger after they acquired their powers. Sometimes, Wanda would hear a few of Strucker's men speculate that the twins were closer than normal siblings in _vulgar_ ways. Wanda would grimace and teach them a lesson...discreetly of course.

She feels the exact moment Pietro dies. There's sharp pains all throughout her body, as if she were being shot right at the moment Pietro was. She feels when he stops breathing, because, for a moment, Wanda felt like her lungs were collapsing in on themselves. That's when she knows his heart stopped beating.

She didn't remember killing every sentinel around her with the flick of her wrist. She didn't remember how she came to be kneeling beside a wounded Ultron. What she did remember was how it felt for his cool metal to cave in under her fingertips. Wanda remembered the small pressure she applied and how it creaked and groaned, oozing out black liquid that ran down the length of her arm. 

Then the ground shook underneath her feet and someone lifted her up into the air. Strong (and surprisingly warm) arms held her protectively against a muscular chest. Wanda looked up and caught the icy blue eyes of Vision, who was calmly flying away from the town.

 _"I've got you."_ He doesn't say it, he thinks it. It's almost as if he purposely projects his thoughts to her, which wouldn't be all that far fetched. When she had first been opened to his mind, there had been a somewhat pushing sensation into her mind. It was like he was letting her know that he was aware of her actions. 

There was a loud boom. Puffs of fire crept across the expanse of the town, swallowing cars and the unmoving bodies of the sentinels as it made it's way down the streets. Chunks of dirt, concrete, and black top flew down from a sudden explosion.

Fire rose up towards them. Before Wanda is aware of it, Vision holds her tighter and shifts them so his back is facing it. Wanda quickly puts up a barrier. The thin scarlet shield hugs the two of them, shaped like an oval. The fire licks at the surface of the barrier. Wanda feels the heat in her toes and squirms in Vision's grasp. He notes the uncomfortable circumstances and moves them away from the explosion.

As they make their way to the helicarrier, Evacs fly past them. Wanda can hear the pain in their voices as they cry out for medics and she inhales a shuddering breath. She reaches out for someone, anyone's mind to find out where Pietro is. She doesn't want to come back for cleanup and find his charred remains where he died.

Barton's is somewhere near her. He's asleep and in his dreams, he's gathering his thoughts. He's remembering what happened in vivid detail, replaying the moment over and over and over again. Bullets flying in, the determination to protect the child, turning, and then the shooting stopped. He turns, catching sight of Pietro standing frozen in the street. _"I didn't see that one coming,"_ and then he falls, eyes lifeless and staring at nothing.

Wanda feels her hands prickle in tension, her powers lighting like the fire in the town. Her heart aches, slowly breaking inside of her. A tear runs down her cheek, hitting Vision's skin. 

"You are...sad," he observes. They're not moving anymore. They're only a few yards away from the helicarrier, but Vision lets them hover thousands of feet above solid, unmoving ground. "Are you thinking of him?"

She wipes her tears, steeling herself. "Can we just get to the helicarrier?" He gives a nod and trains his eyes on the landing spot. She's glad he dropped the subject.

There's a group of people watching and waiting for them. It's apparent as they get closer that all of the people have the SHIELD symbol pinned to their attire. A woman positioned in front of the mob-like group observes the two with patience.

Vision floats down to the helicarrier, hovering a few inches above the ground. He gently releases Wanda, setting her on her feet. As he makes to leave, Wanda grabs him by the wrist. He humors her, and stays in place.

"Where are you going?" She can't say she's not suspicious of him. Even if she did go through his thoughts, he still has the consciousness of Ultron shadowing the back of his makeup.

He glances over his shoulder, down where the debris and wreckage is still falling. His gaze is seemingly reluctant, a hard edge to his features Wanda has seen for the first time since witnessing his tumble with Thor. "I have to end this." He turns to look back at Wanda, eyes softening as they meet hers. "Please inform the others that I will be meeting you back at the Avengers Facility later today." Without another word, he's gone. He drops himself off the edge of the helicarrier, dodging the Evacs as they dock.

The group has reached her by then. The leading woman beckons Wanda to her, not even bothering to look up at her as she taps away on her tablet.

"Wanda Maximoff, I'm Maria Hill, Deputy Director of SHIELD." The people who stood behind Hill swarmed around Wanda, most keeping watch on her intently while others kept guard, staying aware of what was going on around them. "Nick Fury has ordered us to escort you into one of the bunkers of the helicarrier where you'll be safeguarded. We'll also need you to do a debriefing with a few of the staff so we know exactly what went down while our people weren't there. No details left out."

Wanda is a bit irritated with the guards and is even more irked that SHIELD is commanding her to do a debriefing on what happened. The only thing they should need to know is that she lost the one person that meant something to her and that she doesn't do well when taking orders from others.

Wanda opens her mouth to speak, but is cut off by Hill snapping her fingers. "I don't care if you don't like what you have to do, but you better get with the program because this is protocol. If you choose to be a part of the team, I don't want to hear you whining about the rules, got it?" Wanda's jaw ticks as she grinds her teeth in annoyance, glaring at the woman. "Good. Now, Agent 13 will show you the way to your quarters." A blonde woman stands in front of her, waiting for Wanda. Hill gives her a pointed look, making Wanda feel like a pouting child. "Behave, or else."

Agent 13 gives her a tense smile and turns on her heel. "Follow me, please?"

* * *

She dreams nightmares. The cold, dark abyss of Ultron's vision for a new tomorrow. One where the human race is extinct, starting fresh so that there will be peace. She begins to understand the harsh reality of the situation. Peace in the world would not be able to exist without the death and destruction. It's a counteractive step for a balance of everything to truly exist. 

Wanda is beginning to understand, yes, but she cannot accept it. She can't accept that a renewal for the world would be the extinction of all life.

In her sleep, her mind reaches out, trying to find Pietro's for something vibrant and joyous to rid herself of the nightmares. Instead, she stumbles upon something completely different.

The color baby blue, the smell of river water and pine, the sound of wind blowing leaves high into the air. It's calm, soothing. The mind she's linked herself to isn't at all what she's used to. It's still all too new, yet familiar in a way. It's curiosity, the desire to learn and experience. It's bright. There's the flashing images of Barton, children laughing, running, a woman laughing, Barton smiling. Then there's Wanda: crying, hurting, sad, mourning over loss, grieving as she comes to terms with her brother being gone. It's Vision. It's his mind, only, there's the addition of all the faces and emotions he can't feel. She's fully experiencing all that he's being exposed to. It's beautiful, heartbreaking, and wondrous all at the same time.

When she wakes, he is sitting at the foot of her bed, watching her with those eyes, so blue and human. He's tranquil as she jumps at him, gripping him in a hug while she weeps into his shoulder.

He holds her without a word as she cries. Her hold on him is tight and she's shaking, sobbing. He pulls her into his lap and cradles her just like when he rescued her. "Are you sad?" Vision asks.

She pulls back. "I...I miss Pietro and I miss Sokovia." She sniffs and wipes her tears away with the back of her hands. "People are dead because of me and it's my fault." Wanda gives him a wavering smile. "But, not only am I stricken with grief, I am also heavy with...awe."

Vision's head cocks to the side in confusion. "I do not understand. Please elaborate if you will?"

"Your mind, your thoughts...they are so pure and virgin." She takes his hand in hers, tracing the patterns of his palm and fingers. "You do not sleep?" She questions.

He shakes his head. "No, I can not sleep."

"Well, since you can not sleep, it is as if you are always dreaming. Your mind is...exquisite," she breathes out.

He's quiet for a moment. "I could sense you having a nightmare. Did my mind comfort you?"

"Yes."

He hums to himself. "If you wish to go through my thoughts, do not hesitate to do so. I am glad to be of service."

"Are you sure?" Wanda asks.

The corners of his mouth turn up, contorting into an awkward smile. Wanda's mouth twitches. "I am quite sure, Ms. Maximoff."


	2. Requiem for the Absent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “In order to welcome redemption, one must first embrace the utter hopelessness of failure. For how can a man look for rescue unless he knows he is truly lost?”  
> ― Stephen R. Lawhead, Pendragon

The air was thick with car exhaust and (oddly) Chinese food, mixed with the putrid sewer odor from underneath the city and deli meat from the shops on the corners of the streets. Although there was the off-putting city scents, the smell of food- any kind whatsoever, made his stomach rumble with hunger. He'd neglected to eat before going out and would most likely have to pay for that mistake during his round.

Matt stood on top of the roof, head tilted and fists clenched in concentration as he listened. Police sirens wailing, footsteps echoing, people breathing, a baby crying, mother yawning, women offering themselves to men. Just some of the various sounds habitual to Hell's Kitchen, as well as the rest of New York. Matt honed in on one particular sound, a young girl running down a street. Her feet kicked up a storm of fallen trash and lungs gasping for breath, heart beating quickly.

 _"Get back here, you little bitch,"_ a man called out to her amusedly.

Matt jumped down from his spot, landing in a crouch on the top of a plastic garbage bin. He slid off and took off in a sprint, listening for where the girl was running.

She had stopped, breathing heavily and screamed. Though the sound was weak, almost as if she was wheezing instead of screaming.

 _"Go ahead and scream, kid. No one cares."_ The man chuckles darkly, cutting off the girl's oxygen as she's in mid-scream. She squirms, kicking and punching at him. _"You think just because you're a cute kid means you get to run from punishment?"_ Her struggling slows, much like her heartbeat, and her breathing is sluggish.

Matt pushes himself to his limit, using her whimpers from the chokehold as his encouragement to reach her in time.

He turns into the alley, jumps and lands a solid kick in the back of the man's neck. It stumbles him, allowing the girl to breathe again and crawl away from the assaulter, but it doesn't knock him out cold. Matt expects the turn and punch thrown at him. He dodges it by an inch and spins his leg around, throwing the man off balance and onto the ground with a thud. He quickly recovers and charges at Matt after getting back up, pushing him against the brick wall of the narrow alley.

"Who the hell do you think you are? Some sort of _superhero_?" The man questions him, panting out breaths and trying not to show his pain.

Matt remains silent, only giving a grunt as the man gets in a punch or two before he slides out of his position. His nose aches and he can feel blood running down his face. He ignores the pain and instinct to wipe the blood off his face and holds his hands in front of his face in a defensive stance, beckoning him.

The man cracks his neck, pulling out a switch blade, and confidently strolls up to him. He lunges at Matt, aiming for his side, swaying his arm to the left and up after missing. The serrated blade nicks him good on his chin and nose.

Matt kicks the knife out of his hands. It clangs as it lands on the ground, causing chills to run up Matt's spine. He feigns a punch, spinning and dropping the heel of his boot down onto the man's face, rendering him unconscious.

Matt listens for the girl. She's a few feet away from him, cowering near a pile of garbage. Her heart's beating fast and strong, breathing ragged. She smells of candy, car grease, tears, and just the faded smell of vanilla and pine, the mixture giving him a sense of familiarity.

He cautiously makes his way over to her, making sure he doesn't scare her away. "Do you have anyone to go to?" He asks. The girl flinches at the sound of his voice, curling further into herself. "I won't hurt you. Promise." He holds a hand out to her. "I'm not the bad guy."

She hesitates, seemingly debating over whether she should or shouldn't go with him. She makes up her mind and grabs his hand, allowing him to pull her up.

"Do you have any parents?" Her clothes ruffle from the nod of her head. "Can you tell me where they are?" She shakes her head. Matt sighs. "Alright then. Looks like you'll just have to lead me to where you live. I'll accompany you back to your house." He figures that she's quiet because of shock, so he dismisses it.

He starts walking and she slowly follows behind him, but something seems off. Her steps are uneven as she walks, limping a few feet behind him. Matt pauses and turns to her. "Are you hurt?" She nods, leaning on her left foot.

Matt takes in the sound of her heartbeat, it's strong, but still light like a thin child's. He leans down, grabbing her under her knees and around her waist. She's very light and based on her weight, can't be more than 7 years old. She clung to him as he held her. Her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck and her head rested on his shoulder.

The coarse fabric of his suit didn't seem to bother her as her cheek rubbed against it. But then again, she must be exhausted both physically and mentally from running and being choked by an angry street thug.

"Since you won't speak, point my finger in the direction you want me to go. Okay?" He feels and hears her nod against his shoulder. Matt shifts her so her back is against his shoulder and only one of his arms has to hold her.

Small, frail hands grab his other arm, using his index finger to show him the directions needed to be followed. The girl guided him for about half an hour and she still hadn't spoken to him. Not a peep. The most noise she had made was breathing and a few sighs. He was beginning to worry the man had damaged something.

She taps him on the chest to halt him. From what Matt can hear, he's standing on the sidewalk in front of a six story apartment complex. Most of the windows are opened, though they all sound like they have curtains or blinds covering them.

As he steadily makes his way into the building (thankfully, no one was in the lobby), booming rap music is muted by the thin walls, people are cooking, watching TV, doing laundry, other household chores.

"What floor do you live on?" The girl counts four fingers, lightly tapping each one of them on the thin part of his suit. "Is there an elevator?" She shakes her head. He gives a disappointed sigh and makes his way into the building.

His side begins to ache. It feels blistering hot, like something is burning him to the point that the heat feels like ice. It feels like something wet is dripping down his torso and falling to his feet as he climbs up the stairway. Matt ignores the pain as he climbs and hikes the girl closer to his chest so as not to drop her if he tripped. The last thing he wanted was for her to be injured by his carelessness.

He listens closely, autopilot coming to him. There's a buzzing from the lights, they flicker above him. There's muffled screaming from a couple fighting somewhere on the top floor. Down the hall of floor two, a man loudly snores, the TV still turned on in front of him, a child is throwing a tantrum over not wanting to take a bath.

They're on the fourth floor now. Matt turns left, not hearing any protest from the girl, so he knows he's going the right way. Down the hall, there's the sound of children playing in one room with a teenager barking orders at them, in another section, there's the sizzling of food in a pan, a man flipping the news paper and humming a tune to himself.

The next one across, the door is slightly ajar, allowing Matt to clearly listen in as a familiar voice speaks frantically over the phone.

He honed into her voice: her pronunciation and accent on certain words and letters. "No, she just wandered off...yes...yes, she was with the babysitter...of course...yes...thank you..." Her phone was set down on a table, hands cupping her cheeks. Matt heard her bones crack as she slumped. She gave off a sigh and Matt was sure that it was _her_ , he can't be wrong. It sounded exactly just like _her_.

The vanilla and pine is stronger than before and it's the first time that Matt realizes he's been surrounded by her scent this whole time.

As Matt approaches the door, the girl taps on his shoulder once he's directly in front of her door. The door creaks against the girl's fingers pressuring the wood to swing it open.

She doesn't notice him standing in the doorway. "Claire," Matt calls out to her.

He hears a choked gasp and footsteps hitting the thin floor. "What happened?"

"Guy jumped her in an ally. I got to her just in time to stop him from killing her, but she was choked pretty hard by him. There are probably bruises around her neck," he informs her, heart beating faster at the close proximity when she takes the girl from his arms.

Claire doesn't talk or look at him as she works on the girl and he's not too sure whether or not to stay. He chooses to seek luck and closes the door, sliding off his mask and letting out a tired breath. She stiffens a bit when she hears the chair legs scrape across the floor when he sits down, but doesn't give him any form of protest.

He listens to her check for the injuries. The girl lets out a wheeze of pain when Claire shifts her foot around. He hears her hands moving and words mumbled to the girl before she wraps an ice pack around her ankle.

Claire goes to pick her up, but Matt stops her. "I'll carry her." She hesitates a short moment, then nods and he carefully picks the girl up, cradling her again. He follows Claire into a room and sets her down on a bed.

After Claire adjusts her ankle to the proper position, mumbling a goodnight, she makes her way into the room where Matt sits at the kitchen table.

For a moment, she stares at him and he can tell she's taking in his appearance. Although he can't see, Matt knows that he's aged quite a bit, hair a bit greyer from the stress, eyes tired, stubble grown out to a short cut beard. He knows that he's also got a black eye as result of the last _superhero_ scuffle he got into.

"Care to tell me what your real name is?" The question resembles that of an accusation. "And why it is you left without so much as a goodbye nearly eight years ago?" He's quiet, internally debating on how he should go about the current situation. Claire continues to talk, not noting his struggle. "I went back to your apartment, but you had moved. I waited for you to come back or at least give me a call."

"Claire, I'm-"

"No, don't you dare apologize now, _Mike_." She says the name with a bitter tone. "I don't want pity. I get enough of that when people in my complex stare at me."

Matt bites his lip, the abrupt quiet a deafening silence to his ears. He listens and is sure that she's done reprimanding him for the moment, so he makes his move. "My name is Matthew Murdock." She's silent as she listens to him. "I haven't spoken to any of my friends since eight years ago and I haven't been in Hell's Kitchen since last year." He leans back in his chair, the wood creaking in protest under the weight.

"What are you doing back?" Claire questions.

"Last year, I was... _persuaded_ to become a part of this secret organization, SHIELD. They have files on me, on the people close to me, where I lived, my line of work, and all of my crime fighting. They know who I am, my blood type, how I got my enhanced senses...everything." He gives a dark chuckle, lacking any humor. "I've been exposed to horrors much worse than a few corrupt cops or mob bosses since joining them." The hairs along his arms prickle with nervousness as he thinks on various memories. Matt gives a small shake of his head and clears his throat. "Anyways, I was in Manhattan for a mission. Stark wanted me to checkout this kid, an agile little shit who loved mouthing off and was reluctant to talk with anyone or anything that had a hint of SHIELD. I followed him all the way to Hell's Kitchen, then lost him a few minutes after entering the city."

"And then that's when you found Mare," she assumed.

Matt nods and the atmosphere was again plagued by the awkward silence as they waited for one of them to speak.

He hears Claire set her hands on top of her stomach. Listening closer, he can now tell that her heartbeat isn't just one, but two. Both were so close to sync that he hadn't even noticed. Everything clicks into place.

"The girl. She's yours isn't she? And your pregnant," he states.

Claire rubs circles into her stomach. "Marisole, her name is Marisole and she's your daughter." He frowns and she huffs. "She was born 8 months after you left. She was so small and they didn't think she'd make it since she was born a month early. But she pulled through."

"So, who's is...?" He motions to her and points at his stomach.

"This guy, Luke. He was a tough guy who always had bruises and cuts on his face or arms whenever we went on our dates." She drums her fingers on the surface of the table. "He left four months ago. Fell in love with a girl- Jessica- and ran off with her, only leaving a note on my door with no goodbye to my face." She sniffs and Matt smells the salt of her tears in the air. "I saw it coming the moment we bumped into each other. I knew that the relationship wouldn't last. He had too many secrets, I had so much to handle, with Marisole and her condition. And I know that I'll never see him again, so I don't know why I'm tearing up over it." She rubs her eyes. "He was similar to you, in a lot of ways, Matt." He likes the way she says his name.

"Marisole." He had no idea what Claire was talking about when she said condition. "What happened to her?"

"When she was a baby, there was something in the formula I was feeding her. There was something inside that I couldn't see at the time. It was like a watery acid that lined the inside of one her bottles. It must have come from the bottle of water I used or something, but whatever it was, the doctors couldn't identify it. Her vocal cords were ruined in a matter of minutes after she drank it." Claire runs a hand through her hair, voice uneven with emotion. "She's never been able to make a sound past a few wheezes here and there."

Matt pushes back the urge to comfort her and hesitates before asking, "She communicates through sign language?"

"The moment she was able to learn what 2+2 was, I enrolled her in sign language classes."

The silence resumed, with the only sounds being the loud drips of water leaking out of the kitchen sink's faucet, the police sirens wailing, and car horns honking seeping in through the parted window.

Matt could feel his side aching, the muscles twitching under his skin and blood running down the inside of his suit. A drop of blood fell, splattering on his wrist. Matt ran a finger under his nose and another on his chin. He had thought that the bleeding would have stopped by then, considering his healing factor and the fact that the cuts were small. The only reason he could see to them bleeding was because they were cut deeper than he originally thought.

He vaguely feels himself slip off of the chair and land on the floor. He can't feel any pain, his body mostly numb so he figures that when he awakes the pain will increase tenfold. Matt hears the muffled voice of Claire as he clocks out. He tries to say something, but all that comes out is slurs and he goes unconscious.

* * *

When Matt comes to, he shoots up in panic, forgetting where he is and what happen. The sounds of jet engines and dark chuckling still echoing throughout his ears which gradually turns into the bottom of a pan scraping against a stove top and food sizzling.

With his heart still beating fast, Matt takes deep breaths to calm himself. He holds a hand over his chest, feeling his pulse race like an Olympic runner. The smell of bacon fills lungs and he feels his stomach ache and rumble with sever hunger. Though, not only does his stomach give pangs, so does the wounded part of his torso.

As he moves to lay back down, he feels the bandages shift in place as well as the cut skin. It doesn't feel as big a cut as it was last night, so he's glad that the healing factor came into play. He can't feel the cuts on his face, so he assumes they're healed.

Matt slowly comes to a stand, wobbling on his feet a bit but otherwise fine. He makes his way to the kitchen table step by step. He bumps into a few newly placed furniture pieces on his way and hopes that Claire didn't hear.

He finally makes it to the table and takes a seat, muscles tense and still a little sore as he does so. Claire turns around at the sound of the his low groan and murmurs to herself.

"New suit?" She tries to ask nonchalantly, but ends up revealing some of her curiosity.

"They went with something a bit more flexible...and flashy," Matt states. Truth be told, he missed his original armored suit. Sure, it wasn't that great to look at in the light, but it was durable and he could rely on it to block knives and even bullets from the sensitive parts of his body. He could move around easier in this suit but, it was shit when it came to protecting his vital organs.

"Spandex?"

Matt shook his head. "More like a thin leather."

"A leather that does nothing to keep you unscathed..." He hums in agreement. "So, I have a feeling when you were gone, they also gave you some type of healing serum, right?"

He tapped his forefinger and thumb together nervously. "You caught that."

"Yep."

"It takes a bit more energy from me, but the lab coats are working on something. I can heal a bit faster." He knows that telling her all of this information could be potentially dangerous for both of them should SHIELD ever find out. Though, Matt trusts her enough that she won't tell anyone.

Claire drains the grease from the pan, her spatula holding the bacon against the inside as she tipped the pan over a bowl. "These scientists...can they, perhaps create something that could get rid of Marisole's inability to speak?" Matt's breath catches and Claire backtracks. "Or, at the very least, could they take a look at her and see what exactly it was that caused her to become mute?"

Matt hesitated before talking. "Claire, I really don't want them to know anything about you or Marisole's existence. It'd be dangerous and I don't know exactly what it is they'd do if they were to find out about her e or your relationship to me."

" _Past_ relationship," Claire corrects him as she sets the plate of bacon and two mugs down on the table. "And although she's your kid, SHIELD can't do anything to her without my consent. You don't have any legal ties to her in terms of custody."

"Claire, there are a lot of risks-"

"No," she cut him off, hand on her hip and spatula pointed in his direction, "you owe me this much, Matt. I know that there are risks, there always is when it comes to the government, but this is for me to do what's best for our child. You walked out on me with no phone call or goodbye and didn't come back until it was necessary for you to do so. It's been eight years since I last saw you, so don't you dare try and deny me this."

Matt sighed in defeat. "Alright, I'll see what I can do." He tried to bring the plate of bacon closer to himself without her noticing. "Do you mind if I use your phone? I need to call in and explain the current situation."

"Will it involve you smashing my phone into pieces?" Claire cautiously steps closer to him with her hand outstretched with her phone.

"Yes," he deadpans and she pauses, tsking when she realizes he's joking.

She gives his shoulder a playful slap, tosses him her phone, and turns to head into Marisole's room. "Quit fucking with me, Murdock," she mutters under her breath.

"Might wanna simmer down on the F bombs there, mama." He reprimands her jokingly. She ignores him and continues on as he commands the phone to call a number for him. It stops ringing after about three seconds and a groggy voice answers.

_"Hello?"_

"Get me Coulson on the line."


	3. Therein Lies the Doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else's opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation.”  
> ― Oscar Wilde

He had been one of the first to come across SHIELD years prior to the files being released to the public. If he was being honest, he hadn't even meant to find them. He stumbled across them when looking in on the Wall Street corruption, which somehow led to him hacking into the Pentagon. It surprised him how easy it was to get through their security system which is why he had secured his own connection and made sure not to do anything too risky that would give him away.

After sifting through the various files of Reconnaissance missions, the Bill Clinton affair, and Iraq updates, Peter found that they had knowledge on _superheroes_. He found the files of Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov, all of the Avengers and a few solos. Peter was relieved that they didn't know of his life away from his Spider-Man persona, but he knew that the longer he fought crime on the streets, catching the eyes of people outside of Manhattan, the faster they'd find out about him, Aunt May, and Gwen. He wanted them to be safe, but didn't want his worry for them to stop him saving people and fighting the criminals others were too busy for.

He glanced over at the one way glass, catching sight of his unruly hair, tired eyes, and baggy clothes. He could faintly see shadows behind the glass, seemingly huddled together in what he would guess as a meeting of some sort.

His hands were still cuffed together, but he was able to move around freely. Peter stood and approached the dark stained mirror. He raised his hands and tapped on the glass, a bored sigh escaping his lips. "Hey, is anyone going to come in and interrogate me, or what? I've got a lot of errands to run and I'm already behind on my schedule as it is." And he wasn't exactly lying. Aunt May had asked him to pick up a loaf of bread and cereal for breakfast the following day. It looked like he was going to have to swing by (pun totally intended) and hurry back to the house when he was let go.

Once Peter sat back down, a moment later, the usual tingling running from the tips of his ears down to the base of his neck, warning him of an enemy. "My spidey senses are tingling," he murmured to himself, giving a scoff as the door swung open. A woman, eyes trained on him and a blank look on her face, stepped in the room, placing files down on the table and sitting down across from him.

"Something funny, young man?" The lady questioned him, voice set in monotone. Peter wasn't much of an analyst, but he could sure tell when someone was holding in their emotions. He's dealt with Gwen for years, so it's nothing really new to him. The lady was like a statue, unblinking and gaze set in stone as she opened a file.

"Just a bit of an inside joke, ma'am." She flicks through papers taken out of the manila folder, humming to herself at his response. Peter clears his throat and attempts to get past the tension in the room. "What's your name, if I may ask?"

The woman doesn't take notice of his question and instead of answering she slides papers in front of him in a line, leaning back in her chair as Peter examines them.

He tries to mask his emotions and not give away what he was feeling as he studied the papers- _his_ papers. The files on his life. His name, the school he attended, his GPA, the property he owned, his address, colleges he was considering (how the hell did they know that?), his deceased and alive family, Gwen, all the times he took down the "baddies" in Manhattan.

The typed out information of his life should have made him more scared than he already was, but the one thing that made him break was the pictures. Hundreds and hundreds of pictures of him, his parents, Uncle Ben, Aunt May, Gwen. There are pictures of his dates with Gwen, him skateboarding at the park, him as Spider-Man, and even pictures that seemed copied from the ones framed on his wall. 

Peter's toes curled in anxiety, his stomach swirling with emotion. He could feel the hairs in the back of his neck standing as he uncomfortably met the woman's steely eyes.

"Your name is Peter Benjamin Parker. You were born on August 5th, 1998. Both parents are deceased as well as your uncle Benjamin Parker who had adopted you along with your aunt May prior to your parents death...and you, boy, are Spider-Man." The woman states, a bit of smugness shadowing her words. "I'm certain you're beginning to understand why it is we've brought you in, Mr. Parker."

Peter purses his lips. "I don't know why you've brought me in, aside from the fact that, yes, I'm Spider-Man, but this shouldn't matter considering the fact that I save people."

"You may save people, but that doesn't mean you get the privilege of hacking into government files without consequences." Peter folds his arms in silent protest and gives somewhat of a childish pout as the woman reprimands him. "And it's not like you haven't killed someone, Peter." She tosses another file down on the table. "Does the name Mary Jane Watson ring any bells?"

His brow furrows and he feels a pinch behind his eyelids as his eyes water though he forces the tears back. It was a low blow and he was sure that she knew what it was doing to him.

"Don't talk about her," he says, voice hoarse with pain.

"She was held captive on top of an insurance building by your well known nemesis the Green Goblin." The woman proceeds to take pictures out of the folder. "You were careless enough to allow her in the area of the fight and he was able to snatch her up right under your nose." She places the pictures down in front of him one by one. Peter struggles to not look at them, but he slips up and glances down, catching sight of MJ held over the building while the crowds stand and watch behind the police.

"Stop," Peter warns.

"He let her go and she plummeted 14 stories and was killed on impact after you failed to catch her sooner." More photos. "In the autopsy, it was recorded that her neck was snapped and skull cracked clean through to the brain."

"I said stop!" Peter stood and kicked his chair back into the wall. He heard the plaster crack, yet he was too busy holding himself back from doing anything remotely stupid. If he didn't have the strong will he was blessed with then he'd surely be in a world of even more trouble. "Is this how sick SHIELD really is?! Giving vague threats and torturing people?!"

The woman was cool and collected in her seat still, not an ounce of emotion on her face.

"You think I don't kick myself over not being able to save MJ? I push myself to the limit every day. I'm much more careful when it comes to keeping my identity secret and making sure Gwen is safe," Peter shouts. "And then you guys are here, complicating things even further. You think I don't know that you've had my files? I know. Just because I didn't find them when sifting through doesn't mean I didn't have a suspicion."

She just blinks. "Sit down, Mr. Parker."

"I'll sit down right after you kiss my ass, lady. I don't need SHIELD keeping files on my entire life just so that, someday, one of my enemies were to dig deeper and find out everything." He drags his chair back to the table and seats himself back down. "You all may think you're doing good by keeping tabs, but what you're really doing is endangering the lives of people who are only here to try and make a difference in the world."

She pauses before replying. "Please sit tight and we'll be with you shortly."

Peter sighs and drops his hands down on the table, cuffs clinking as they hit the surface.

* * *

 

Skye looks on as May exits the room. "What the hell was that?" She questions to no one in particular, or maybe to a certain balding someone in particular. No one answers. "Hello? Did I seriously just witness that?"

"She was following orders, Skye." Coulson replies, lips tight.

Skye glares at him. "Orders? Forcing a 17  year old boy to remember his girlfriend's death is a part of your orders?"

Bobbi, leaning against a wall behind her pipes up. "He wasn't some innocent child, Skye, he's a superpowered teenager who hacked into the _Pentagon_. Despite the fact that he's a junior in highschool, he's got the IQ of a college graduate. He takes AP classes and builds weapons for fun."

"He could kill us, ya know?" Leo states.

Skye is still unbelieving of their attitudes toward Parker. "He's still a _boy_ who's had to deal with his parents dying when he was still in elementary and his uncle dying only two years ago. Plus, he's still mourning over his girlfriend dying last year. You don't think _that_ , adding the weight of protecting Manhattan from aliens, villains, and even itself doesn't cause anxiety or stress?"

Coulson turns to face her. "There's a war brewing and we have to take precautionary measures when interrogating, Skye. I know it seems bad but-"

"Seems bad?! Your damn right it seems bad. SHIELD doesn't threaten kids. At least, that's what I thought we didn't do." She backs away from the group and heads for the door right as May enters.

"Take a breather. Don't come back until you're ready to apologize." Coulson orders. She resists the urge to snark back at him and leaves instead, hearing Leo ask, "What's her problem?" as she exits.

Skye didn't think that she was capable of staying longer in that room after having to watch May toying with the emotions of a boy. Sure, she was aware that they were a part of the government and they've roughly interrogated people before, but all of the interrogations were with people who threatened others' safety-not a teenage hero.

The only thing he's done that even called for questioning was him hacking into the files. Yet, even then, the government didn't find out until much later when someone else was dumb enough to brag about them hacking to the team.

Skye opened the door of the lab, spotting Jemma in her lab coat and safety goggles, testing chemicals on a table. She had been distant from Skye lately. They hadn't had sex since a month prior to the information leaked to Skye and Jemma was always busy or too tired to talk about anything with Skye. At first, she had thought it was because Jemma was giving her time to come to terms with what she was, but now she knows it has something to do with her genetic makeup.

The brit looked up at her and gave a tight smile, setting her chemicals down and grabbing another pair of goggles for Skye. "Hello, darling. Come back from the interrogation?" Skye grunted in response and slipped the glasses on over her eyes. Jemma frowns worriedly, keeping an eye on her while she returns to pouring one liquid into the other. "What's the matter?"

Skye sighed. "They were interrogating a kid and... I just..."

"You got angry," Jemma says understandingly.

"Yeah." She rubs the side of her face. "May almost resulted him to tears and it just made me realize that it wasn't doing any good."

"Well, Skye, you can't expect people to do things and not have warnings administered to them." Jemma pauses in her experiments. "A few hurt feelings is nothing compared to a hundred hurt people."

She narrows her eyes at Jemma, stomach dropping in realization. "You're on their side." She scoffs. "It figures you'd defend them. It's not like you've ever been away from them for even a second."

"He may be boy but he is still a possible threat-"

"If he didn't have powers, you and I both know that he wouldn't have been treated like that."

"Don't bring this up again. I thought we were done with this." Jemma bites her lip.

"I will bring this up again, because everyone else is so afraid to even talk about the fact that ever since we found out I wasn't human, things have been different." Skye clenched her fists in frustration. "Others may not be able to admit that you, Fitz- everyone on the bus- are partial to humans, but that doesn't mean I won't address the subject. If Parker wasn't powered, he'd be treated better. He wouldn't have to wear cuffs in the room and things would have gone smoother." Skye tossed her goggles on the table.

"Skye-"

Skye shook her head. "If you wanna talk to me, I'll be in my quarters." She walked away, feeling Jemma's eyes on her back all the while.


End file.
